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  “Stay right here,” she ordered and hurried down to the lunchroom for a bottle of water. She pulled two out of the refrigerator and strode back to her office.

  Sabrina was sitting behind the desk, leaning back in Billie’s chair with her hands laced behind her head. She reached out for the bottle. “Thanks, honey. I feel like a camel with an empty hump.”

  Billie twisted the cap off her water and took a long drink. Eyes closed, she counted to ten. When she opened them her mother was fiddling with the things on her desk, straightening everything into neat piles and groupings. She sat down in one of the facing chairs and sighed. “Okay, now start at the beginning and tell me exactly what has been going on in your life that has led you down this path of insanity. A motorcycle? Really, Mom?”

  Sabrina waved a hand at her as though brushing away a pesky fly. “I didn’t ride it all the way from Minnesota. I rented it when I got here. I know I told you when you were in high school that motorcycles were deathtraps and if you ever got on one I would never forgive you, but I’ve changed my mind.” She shrugged. “Oh, they’re deathtraps all right, but if you’ve got nothing to lose, they’re a heck of a lot of fun.”

  “Wha–?” she couldn’t find the words. She just looked at her mother and shook her head. The woman had the audacity to actually look refreshingly flushed and happy. Billie didn’t know whether to applaud her new adventuresome spirit or smack some sense into her. Until her Mother’s last words registered. She covered her mouth with her hands. Nothing to lose. What did that mean? Was she dying?

  Sabrina gasped and jumped up. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean that. I meant that at my age, I have less to lose. You and Adam are grown, I have no husband, no one relying on me.”

  “Mother, don’t ever scare me like that again,” Billie said, grasping the arms of the chair. “We have enough going on around here without…” she stopped, her inward editor shushing her, but it was too late.

  Sabrina sat back down, her gaze narrowed. “I knew it!” she said, pointing her finger. “It was not just a random hot flash moment, as you so colorfully expressed.” A small smile flitted over her lips. “And I think I know what it is,” she said smugly.

  “No you don’t.”

  “I think I do.”

  Billie rolled her eyes. “Mother, you do not have ESP.”

  “I don’t know what it’s called, but every mother has a connection with her children. When they need her, she just knows. So here I am.” She looked at her hands folded on the desktop and made a sound of disgust. “First I need a hot bath and about a quart of moisturizer. Then we’ll talk.”

  •••••

  Once Sabrina was cleaned up and had a bite to eat, Handel and Billie got to hear a play by play of her recent adventures. After relating all the details about how she’d learned to ride a motorcycle when she was kid – something obviously never shared with Adam and Billie when they were growing up – Sabrina explained that she’d taken a refresher course a month earlier and purchased a Harley. She’d been riding around Minnesota, seeing the state from a different perspective for the last few weeks, but riding all the way to California had still seemed a bit daunting.

  “I shipped my suitcase and just brought my riding gear and overnight bag. That way when I got off the plane, I could ride straight out here on my rented Harley and really smell the vineyards. It was amazing,” she said with a nod.

  “You really bought a motorcycle?” That was the last thing Billie heard. “What are you going to do with a Harley, Mother? Join the Hell’s Angels?” She couldn’t imagine her mother riding around alone. She would be too bored.

  “Speaking of Hell’s Angels, there’s a really nice group of bikers at the new church I’m going to. They invited me to join them on their rides.” She brushed a hand through her still damp hair. “Now, enough about me. What is going on around here?”

  Handel exchanged a look with Billie and jumped up. “Who wants a glass of wine?” he asked, moving toward the kitchen.

  “Hold on there,” Sabrina said. “You should be resting. You’ve only been out of the hospital for a week and a half,” she reminded him. She looked at Billie with a quirk of her dark brows. “I’ll have a glass of that nice Tocai Friulano you sent me for Christmas.”

  “Sorry, Mother. I don’t have any of that on hand. That’s some of Margaret’s special crop.” Now she might not have any for years. It would take a while for the cuttings to become strong vines with a fruitful harvest. “How about some nice Cabernet Franc?”

  “Sounds lovely.” Her mother patted the sofa cushion next to her. “Come sit back down, Handel, and we’ll have a little chat.”

  Billie tried to hide the smile as she passed him, but failed.

  She pulled open the door of the little Thermo-electric wine cooler they’d gotten for a wedding gift and selected a bottle of Cabernet Franc. She had to go to the dishwasher to find clean glassware and then sliced some cheese and bread. After arranging it all on a tray, she drew a deep breath and slowly released it. “Time to party with the Hell’s Angel.”

  “I thought maybe you’d be hungry,” she said, setting the tray on the glass coffee table. She poured the wine. “So, what have you two been chatting about?” she asked, sitting across from them.

  “Your mother wanted to know what I was thinking while I was in a coma,” Handel said, throwing an arm along the back of the couch. “I said I was thinking about you, of course.”

  “Smooth.”

  Sabrina patted Handel’s leg. “I knew you were the one for Billie the moment I set eyes on you.”

  “As I recall,” Billie said, waving a piece of cheese in the air, “you were still trying to get me back together with what’s-his-name.”

  “You mean that sportscaster? He was never right for you. What kind of mother would name their son after a cigarette?”

  Handel’s blank look made Billie laugh. “His name was Kent.”

  “Ahh. Makes perfect sense now.” His eyes were laughing over the rim of his wine glass.

  “Which brings me back to the present,” her mother said.

  Billie waited with bated breath. If she really had ESP it would be revealed now.

  “Has Adam got up the nerve to propose to Margaret yet?” she asked.

  The doorbell rang and Billie put up her hand. “Hold that thought,” she said, a smile teasing at the corners of her mouth. She hurried to the front door and pulled it open.

  “I’m glad you three could join us,” she said brightly and waved them in.

  “Is that Loren’s Harley out there? I thought he had an Indian,” Adam stepped in the door but was glancing back at the sleek red Fat Boy softtail.

  Davy was the first to notice their guest sitting next to Handel. “Sabrina!” He ran over and gave her a hug. “You said next time you came you’d bring me a Minnesota Wild jersey.”

  “Davy,” Margaret reprimanded, looking embarrassed, “that’s no way to greet a guest.”

  “It’s all right,” Sabrina said, “This one says what he’s thinking and I’m all for that.” She looked him up and down. “You have really grown up, young man. I hope that jersey is going to fit.”

  “You brought it?”

  “Not exactly. I shipped it. It should come tomorrow.”

  “Cool.”

  Adam pulled his mother into a hug, his eyes questioning Billie from across the room. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “Now that’s no way to greet your mother,” Sabrina said, pulling back. She squeezed his cheeks playfully like she used to when he was a boy. “You should say, ‘It’s great to see you, Mom.’”

  “It’s great to see you, Mom. So what are you doing here?”

  “I came for a visit, of course. I missed my kids. Is that a crime?”

  “No, but it is kind of short notice.”

  Billie laughed. “You mean no notice. She just showed up here like hell on wheels.”

  Adam glanced toward the window and back. He shook his head. “You a
ren’t saying that bike is Mom’s,” he argued before she had time to say anything at all.

  “Can I go sit on it?” Davy asked Sabrina.

  “Sure, kiddo. Just be careful. It’s a rental.”

  He ran outside, slamming the door behind him. Margaret cringed. “Sorry. He gets a little exuberant sometimes.”

  Adam was staring at his mother like she’d just announced she was a member of NASA and was flying to the moon on Friday. Billie waved him and Margaret toward the matching love seat. “Sit. Have some wine and cheese. I’ll get a couple extra glasses.” She smiled innocently toward her mother. “What was it you wanted to ask Adam, Mom?”

  Handel choked on his cracker and downed it with the rest of his wine. “Let me help you,” he offered, rising from the couch and following.

  In the kitchen she pressed her lips tightly together while her chest shook with restrained laughter. Handel sighed. “You are a trouble maker. Adam and Margaret are gonna kill you.”

  “Not if the Maras get to me first.”

  “Don’t even joke about that,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

  They heard laughter from the other room. Billie eased back and smiled. “You think she’s telling them her story about seeing William H. Macy at the airport and calling him a wild hog?”

  •••••

  Margaret had debated since the day before whether or not to tell Handel about the threats from Edoardo Salvatore. She knew he would want to jump right in the middle and try to take care of everything as he always did, but he had enough to deal with. The trial would resume in just a few days and he was still recuperating from his accident.

  Billie would be a better option. She knew about family law and could at least suggest a course of action. But since Sabrina showed up the day before, she had not had an opportunity to discuss anything with anyone, not even Adam.

  She stuck the wine thief into the bung hole, put her thumb over the hole on the end of the glass tube and drew a sample of the Chardonnay from the barrel. In the glass the white wine still looked a bit cloudy, but she took a sip and rolled it around her tongue. It was beginning to get that creamy rich feel that Chardonnay always had. Good.

  The door at the top of the stairs opened and she heard footsteps descending. She peeked through the barrels and saw a pair of red heels. “Margaret, are you down here?” Sally called.

  “Yeah, hold on a minute.” Margaret stood up from her stool and set the glass down. She stepped out from between the barrels. “What’s up?”

  “Billie brought over a huge chicken salad her mom made for lunch and wondered if you were hungry. She said to join her in her office so you two could talk about harvest week.”

  “Sure, I’ll be right up.”

  She straightened up her work area, washed her tools and headed up the stairs. Billie’s door was open and she had the salads sitting on her desk waiting. She looked up from her computer and smiled.

  “Glad you could join me. My mother usually makes enough to feed an army and Handel’s appetite still isn’t what it was before. He decided to go to his office in town today. Said he needed to get Patty up to speed on everything before next week, but I think he may have just wanted to get a break from his mother-in-law.”

  Margaret gave a short laugh. “She is very…”

  “Melodramatic?” Billie offered.

  “I like her,” Margaret hurried to add, “She just takes so much energy to be around. Sometimes I feel like she’s twenty-something and I’m middle-aged.”

  “That is so accurate. Believe me, I’ve felt the same. Even when I was fifteen.” She shrugged. “But she’s my mom and I love her.”

  Margaret pulled a chair close to the desk and sat down. She took the bowl of salad Billie pushed toward her. Chunks of crunchy fried chicken were tossed on a bed of lettuce, tomato, cucumber and sweet onion. She drizzled dressing over the top. “Sally said you wanted to talk about harvest.”

  “Oh, that can wait. Actually, I was interested in your visit with Edoardo Salvatore yesterday.” Billie took a bite of salad and waited.

  “How did you know –? Never mind. Sally, right?”

  “She is the resident gossipmonger. Seems Ernesto was in the field not too far away and overheard raised voices.”

  Margaret set her fork down and sat back with a sigh. “Well, I wanted to talk to you about it anyway.” She told Billie everything that had transpired since her visit with Edoardo at Carl’s restaurant and how she was afraid he was planning to use underhanded tactics to get some sort of custody or visitation rights with Davy. “He as much as threatened me. Said my place wasn’t a safe environment for his grandson. As if that trumps the fact that Davy is my son.”

  Billie shook her head. “Unbelievable. If I didn’t know how sweet Carl could be, I’d think the whole family was nuts.”

  “Yeah. I feel bad that Carl is thrown in the middle again. Handel and he have been close friends for so many years. I’d hate if their relationship was ruined over my problems with his uncle.”

  “That can’t be helped.” Billie picked up a pen and wrote something on a sheet of notepaper. “If Salvatore plans to fight for visitation rights he will first have to prove that he has rights. Davy’s paternity was never recorded on a legal document. Am I right?”

  She nodded. “Handel said it would be best to just put unknown. I know that sounds creepy, but now I’m beginning to see the wisdom in it.”

  “It will definitely give us more time to prepare, if and when he files with the court.” She tilted her head to the side, her eyes slanted. “Have you told Davy his grandfather is in town?”

  “No. After everything that happened last year, I don’t think he’s ready to handle another crazy relative.”

  They ate their salads and chatted about the harvest, what preparations they needed to make and how many seasonal workers to hire. Margaret discussed the progress of the barreled wine and Billie suggested a by-invitation-only barrel tasting party to ratchet up interest in the Fredrickson brand.

  Margaret nodded. “Sounds like a plan. I think if we send out invites to about fifty of our best customers, the word will spread. The Chardonnay is very promising this year.”

  “I’m sure it won’t be as popular as Margaret’s Wine but I hope it will come in a close second,” Billie said. She picked up her phone and smiled. “It’s Handel. He sent a text asking if my mother is back yet.”

  “Where’s she off to now?” Margaret still couldn’t believe the woman rented a Harley and rode in from San Francisco. She would never forget the look of shock on Adam’s face. It was priceless.

  “She borrowed the BMW. Said she wanted to do some shopping and she was going to stop by and say hello to Carl.” Billie frowned. “I hope she doesn’t expect Antonio to be back from Italy. Carl said he was seeing someone over there and it was serious. She doesn’t show her true feelings much, so I’m not sure if this mid-life crisis is a direct result of a broken heart or a hormone mix-up.”

  “Maybe it’s just your mom’s wild side coming out after all these years,” Margaret teased. “You should have heard Adam last night after he took me home. He’s really worried about her. Thinks she might need a psychiatric evaluation.”

  Billie waved a hand. “My mother? Not on your life. The rest of us may need one though by the time she flies back home to Minnesota.”

  Chapter Ten

  Handel was meeting Frank at Charley’s Coffee House. There were a few empty tables this time of the afternoon, so he chose one away from other customers. He took a sip of espresso and looked around. The black, cream and turquoise décor was retro enough to bring in the baby boomers, yet avant-garde enough to attract the young artsy crowd that populated the area.

  Handel had known Charley since high school. She was always outgoing and loved connecting with people. He watched her leaning over the coffee bar, talking with a customer, her hands moving as quickly as her lips. She reminded him of Carl. They’d make a great pair. She glanced his way and called a
cross the room. “Hey, Handel. Need a refill on that espresso yet?”

  He shook his head with a smile. “Not yet, Charley.”

  “Let me know when you do.” She turned back to her customer, handing her a pastry from beneath the counter.

  Frank came in the front door, looked around, and caught his eye. He nodded in acknowledgment then ordered a coffee before joining Handel at the table. “Hey, counselor. How’s it going?”

  “Good.” Handel shook his hand. “You’re not in uniform. Day off?”

  “Yep, I’m supposed to be out running errands for my wife.” He grinned. “Thought she’d probably like me to pick her up some of Charley’s sticky rolls.”

  “Good call.” He pulled the tiny recorder out of his suit coat pocket and slid it across the table. “That’s the conversation I told you about. I’m not up on my gangbanger jargon,” he said, picking up his espresso. “With your background maybe you can interpret for me.”

  Frank slipped the buds into his ears and pressed play. Handel sipped espresso and watched customers come and go while Frank listened to the recording, his eyes closed in concentration. He pressed rewind and listened again before shutting it off and pulling out the buds.

  “Interesting,” he said, picking up his coffee cup. He took a sip and licked his lips. “I won’t bother to tell you that it’s illegal to record a phone call in California without getting the permission of the other party involved. Because of course, being a lawyer and all, you already know that.”

  Handel nodded. “I do indeed. But hypothetically… if I were to record a phone call and that individual said something about aqua – which I know is Spanish for water – what would that mean in gangspeak?”

  “Knee-deep in aqua means someone is producing meth in large quantities.”

  “Terrific.” He closed his eyes for a second and blew out a breath. “I like to think what I do is more than just keeping innocent people out of jail. It’s about being a part of justice in action. That means something, you know?” He rubbed a hand over his chin and shook his head. “Sure you do. You’re in the justice game too.”